


Quixotic Notions

by SellMySoul



Series: Mechanic/Barista AU [1]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Molstrade, Songfic, Tattoos, johnlock au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:33:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6817090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SellMySoul/pseuds/SellMySoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John have been talking for a couple of weeks. They work across the street from each other, they take breaks together and make small talk. Sherlock has finally worked up the courage to ask John out on a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coffee & Compositions

**Author's Note:**

> The Song is "Starbucks Smile" by Maria K.

Twenty-Seven, February

John

You're just a boy, I saw in my dreams  
As perfect as a Jolly Rancher seems   
I'm more than a girl, I'm your biggest fan  
And your face is why I can't never sleep in  
My day is so perfect when I see you before work  
And I'm always late but it's worth it

I walked out of the coffee shoppe and checked my wristwatch, fifteen minutes left for my break. Something bordering on anxiety arose in my gut just before I saw him sitting in our usual spot, a trail of smoke already polluted the air around him. I didn’t mind though, we all have our vices; mine being caffeine, I thought as I took the first sip of my mocha espresso with no sugar or cream, just the way I liked it. It comes in handy to work at a cafe when you prefer your coffee exactly one way. 

I'm so in love with your   
Early morning starbucks smile  
Can't wait to kiss your early morning starbucks smile  
Your smile, your smile, early morning starbucks smile

I made my way across the pavement and noticed him noticing me. He took a long drag off his cigarette and I watched his muscles individually relaxed as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. When finally seated next to him, I noticed stark black ink against the pale of his wrist peeking out from under his sleeve. We spent the first few moments in silence, and I took that time to admire the foggy overcast morning, on the brink of a drizzle.  
“Is that another idea?” I asked gesturing to the pen markings, barely noticeable on his wrist. After a moment of confusion, clarity passed over his face and he nodded, pulling up the sleeve.   
“Yeah, I think I like this one. But, I liked the last two, also, so. . .” he responded leaving the end of the sentence open. I looked at it closer and realized it was music notes and a violin bow. Probably one of his original compositions. He'd been trying to decide on a tattoo to get for the last several weeks. Every now and then he'd have new design inked out on his wrist and then decides he wants something different, though none of the previous designs had been this intricate.  
I had only heard him play twice, and the last time had been an accident. Once he played for guests to his Christmas party, he’d invited a few people too. It was exquisite really, until the girl I’d brought left because I had been paying too much attention to Sherlock. 

You're on the go, like always it seems  
So I see you more which is cool with me  
I'm the one for you and I'm so convinced  
Cause your face is why I can never sleep in  
My heart is sweeter than Reese's  
I wanna squeeze you to pieces  
You give me a million reasons

The latter was when I’d crashed at his flat, because I’d been kicked out of my own. I was woken up at 3:15 A. M. from my night terrors, and I was having a panic attack. I rolled out of bed and threw the window open to breathe in clean air. When I was calmed down a bit, I registered a faint noise coming from the window below. I realized it was his violin and I craned my neck to hear it better. When I figured I couldn’t I went to the bedroom door and opened it gingerly, attempting to avoid the infamous creaking that so often ruins moments like this, and crept halfway down the stairs to listen. Drowsy from the sweet melody of his one violin symphony creating the most melancholy sound in all of London, I didn’t realize when he stopped.  
“I’ve made tea.” his voice made me jump. He knew? I was quiet for a moment, and then realizing how dumb it was to perpetuate my silence when he was obviously aware of me, I spoke,  
“Uhm, sure.” My voice was the awkwardest thing that I’d ever heard. We had a nice warm night drinking tea and just talking. I told him about my night terrors. “I’ve never told anyone that before.” I told him, and he had been quiet. 

I realized I’d fallen silently lost in thought when I heard Sherlock clear his throat and say my name with a concerned undertone.   
“John? Did you hear what I said?” I blinked and smiled apologetically and told him I hadn’t. I watched him flick his cigarette on the ground and stomp it out before throwing it in the trash can sitting next to the bench. “I asked if you had any plans tonight.” My stomach flopped over at the way his voice had sounded saying my name. I licked my lips and was abruptly aware of every single thing. How closely our hands rested on the bench. The intent friendly gaze of those bright blue eyes inquiring as to whether I’d give him the time of day. The way his hair fell messily on his forehead and the light grease stain from pushing the dark curls out of his face. His slow breathing keeping pace with his muscled chest and rising shoulders. How was he breathing? I couldn’t seem to find the oxygen around me. It had begun to drizzle at some point, dampening his already tight shirt. I shook my head and tried my best not to let my dizzying affection for him show as obviously as it felt it was. It’s probably not even like that, most likely he just wants to go to a pub, as mates, I told myself. He’s never shown an interest in boys before, and definitely not in me.   
“No, no plans. Why do you ask?” I felt like an earthquake as the words left my mouth.   
“I was just wondering if you’d like to go out somewhere, or maybe you could come over and I could fix us dinner or something.” Did that sound like a date?   
“Uhm, sure. Why not? What time?” I asked as casually as possible.  
“Seven sound good to you?” I nodded and took another drink of my coffee, which had cooled down a bit. Glancing at my watch again I saw I still had a few minutes left for my break, but Sherlock had to go. He said he’d call me when he got off to confirm the address and left. As I watched him walk into the Auto Shop where he worked all I could think about was what tonight would be like. He offered to cook dinner and everything, it’s definitely a date. Right? The only person I could think who I’d be comfortable asking their opinion is Harry, and she’s off at University. She’d probably just tease me, and call me baby brother, anyways. I shrugged and drank my coffee and exhaled, it was getting chillier, I could see my breath.

Tonight, I'm gonna sleep tight  
Won't let the bugs bite, cause I'll be dreaming of you  
And Tonight, I'm gonna sleep tight  
Won't let the bugs bite, cause I'll be dreaming of you

I finished my coffee, and went back to work. Walking back into the rich smelling atmosphere of my barista job was sort of comforting. I saw we were swamped and went directly to work. My mind settled on making frappuccinos, lattes, espressos, macchiatos, americanos, cappuccinos, and even hot chocolate. Never for long, though, eventually it always wandered back to Sherlock and the night to come, in those rare slow moments when we had no customers. His eager eyes and slender hands that I loved to imagine holding. In my head, I liked to think they were cool and comforting, with a firm grip. If I closed my eyes I could almost imagine running my fingers through his soft dark hair, leaving them lingering at the nape of his neck, as I laid my head on his chest and swayed to the music. 

I'm so in love with your   
Early morning starbucks smile  
Can't wait to kiss your early morning starbucks smile  
Your smile, your smile, early morning starbucks smile

I felt my head bob as sleep threatened to take me. It had begun storming outside and the customers were coming in less and less. The sky was overcast and it was getting dark. When I looked over at the clock in the corner above the digital fireplace, I dreaded the next two hours that would be primarily waiting to get off of work and go out with Sherlock.


	2. Composition of My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's pre-date jitters, we get a slight bit more of insight into his own life (meet his roommate and her boyfriend) as well as what he's deduced of John's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Please Don't Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Aplin

Twenty-Seven, February  
Sherlock 

Summer comes, winter fades  
Here we are just the same  
Don't need pressure, don't need change  
Let's not give the game away

My clothes were a bit damp as I slid under the blue convertible to work on the brake lines. It was a nice soft top, Audi Cabriolet. A decent sort of vehicle if you knew what you were doing with it. The girl who owned it didn’t though. She was a twenty-something with teal blue tips, an American. She had a baby face and wasn’t the sort of woman who you’d expect to know what she was doing under a car. Her name was something odd, starting with a V.   
But she was not the person that I was thinking about. As a matter of fact, she had slipped my mind as quickly as she had left my view. The music blaring from the wall of speakers on the other side of the shop was louder than my thoughts. But it was calming and helped me to concentrate on only one thing at a time. Though, I was only half focused on the task at hand, as my mind was elsewhere. Primarily on a certain man. A man whose name is John Watson and who was most definitely going on a date with me, tonight. I smiled to myself just thinking about it, my stomach was jittery and I was shaking a bit, but all I could do was picture his face and giggle like a schoolgirl. One of my favourite songs came on and I sang along, thinking of him.

There used to be an empty space  
A photograph without a face  
But with your presence, and your grace  
Everything falls into place

I pushed my hair out of my face after I’d reconnected the lines and slid out from under the car. Wiping my hands I went over to the next car and searched my mind to remember what exactly was wrong with it. When I couldn’t, I defaulted to opening the hood and trying to find something obvious. There was nothing. I let my head fall, and walked away to find the mechanic who’d been consulted on this car initially.

Just please don't say you love me  
'Cause I might not say it back  
Doesn't mean my heart stops skipping when you look at me like that  
There's no need to worry when you see just where we're at  
Just please don't say you love me  
'Cause I might not say it back

Every move I made seemed interminable. All I wanted to do was get home and take a long shower and get ready for dinner with John. When I found out what exactly was wrong with the car, I shuffled back over and began to work on it. Systematically, I fixed every little thing and made small improvements that costed too much money, but the mechanics made it sound good so clueless people paid for them. I replaced some parts, and tweaked some others, and I tried as hard as I could to get lost in my work. The only way I knew how to make the time pass faster, but the next time I looked at the clock, it had only been an hour and a half. 

Heavy words are hard to take  
Under pressure precious things can break  
And how we feel is hard to fake  
So let's not give the game away

I had hours left before I could clock out, but we had run out of clients. I decided to take another smoke break, I was itching for something to occupy my time. John only gets one break a day, I knew, but at least I could be alone. I walked out, pulling the cigarette pack from my breast pocket. I leaned against the wet brick of the building I worked in, sticking the fag between my lips and reaching for the matchbox in my pocket. The rain was coming down harder, as I tried to light the first match. 

And fools rush in  
And I've been the fool before  
This time I'm gonna slow it down  
'Cause I think this could be more  
The thing I'm looking for

The wind blew harder and put it out. My agitated fingers, shook as I tried to light another, and once again failed. I bobbed my head along to the song now blaring out the open garage doors of the shop, and finally was able to light the cigarette. I inhaled and felt every inch of me melt a little more against the wall, the jittery movements stopped after that, though. 

I watched the civilians pass on the street, some of them didn’t even see me, like I was part of the wall. Other’s glanced my way and saw nothing but a auto mechanic. None of them knew the truth. Not even John, I realized as I took another drag. I should tell him tonight, I decided. He should know. The sad truth was that we knew virtually nothing about each other. We just had small talk once a day when we took our breaks together. I havered to him and vice versa. He could turn out to be someone totally different than I think. I don’t even know his middle name. 

Just please don't say you love me  
'Cause I might not say it back  
Doesn't mean my heart stops skipping when you look at me like that  
There's no need to worry when you see just where we're at  
Just please don't say you love me  
'Cause I might not say it back

I contemplated what I would make John for dinner. Something easy to talk over. Think, what has he told me he likes? I remembered once he’d praised a Chinese restaurant’s chow mein he’d gone to with one of his girlfriends. I’ve never been much of a cook, though. What if I ruin his taste for Chinese cuisine for the rest of his life? I tried to tell myself not to be so nervous, but unfortunately feelings don’t exactly work that way. We could just go out to that restaurant. What was the name of it? Princess Garden. That was it. I wasn’t sure if I should call and reserve seats or not. I pulled out my phone and looked it up. I had smoked two fags, and texted John by the time I’d gone back inside the shop.

Marylebone Rd.  
7P.M. The Pub We Met At  
After That It’s a Secret  
S.H.

The misty morning transformed into a stormy evening. Finally it was time to clock off and go home. I caught a cab and glanced at the time. I still had a few hours to get ready, but not much to do. I went home and continued composing the few notes penned on my wrist. Despite the fact that I’m a fully grown man, I had butterflies in my stomach as I fervently wrote under the lamp on my desk. I couldn’t wait to see John. To learn more about him. More than I already knew anyways, which was a lot from basic deductions I’d made. I could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb, and I could tell you that John has been a barista since he was in secondary school and is paying his way through university. He’s studying to be a doctor, with a minor in journalism.   
He has a caffeine addiction, roughly matching my own to nicotine, I thought as I looked at the cigarette in my hand with the cherry about to fall. My thoughts were interrupted by Greg coming out of the room down the hall. He mumbled a slow “hullo” to me under his breath and with that I could tell that he and Molly had had a late morning. They both worked nights at the morgue to bring in a bit more money. They were trying to save up enough to buy a place of their own.   
I glanced at the clock and grabbed my coat. Molly was coming out of her room as I passed it.   
“I’m going out, coffee’s made. Have a nice night.” She waved with no conviction. I felt like fire as I walked down the street hailing a cab. Tonight was going to be a good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick apology to the Mystrade Shipping Readers


End file.
